#oversharing — Public Fediverse posts

This photo is a joke. For anybody who knows me, I am the last person they could imagine holding a firearm. Not my vibe. I was visiting friends who live on a hilltop in central Pennsylvania. This is the air rifle they use to “deter” gophers and groundhogs from tearing up the utility lines on their property.

Here, no shots were fired by me and no creature was harmed.
But it does make for an impressive photo, no? Like I said, people who know me would see this and laugh. “Gurl, you put that thing down before you hurt somebody!” I’m not exactly the butchest guy at the rodeo. I have “gay voice”, I’m not very imposing or physically remarkable. I’ve always assumed I’m so obviously gay I don’t need to announce it to anybody. I’ve always been surprised on the few occasions when somebody assumes I’m straight.

I used to post this photo with the caption “I still miss my exes, but my aim is getting better! (I kid, I kid!)” but then I realized a couple of my exes would take it the wrong way. I’m still on good terms with almost all my exes, but not all of them.
#oversharing

This photo is a joke. For anybody who knows me, I am the last person they could imagine holding a firearm. Not my vibe. I was visiting friends who live on a hilltop in central Pennsylvania. This is the air rifle they use to “deter” gophers and groundhogs from tearing up the utility lines on their property.

Here, no shots were fired by me and no creature was harmed.
But it does make for an impressive photo, no? Like I said, people who know me would see this and laugh. “Gurl, you put that thing down before you hurt somebody!” I’m not exactly the butchest guy at the rodeo. I have “gay voice”, I’m not very imposing or physically remarkable. I’ve always assumed I’m so obviously gay I don’t need to announce it to anybody. I’ve always been surprised on the few occasions when somebody assumes I’m straight.

I used to post this photo with the caption “I still miss my exes, but my aim is getting better! (I kid, I kid!)” but then I realized a couple of my exes would take it the wrong way. I’m still on good terms with almost all my exes, but not all of them.
#oversharing

Sitting in a doctor's office waiting room with three people who are telling each other all the issues they have had over their lives.

I'm sitting quietly because none of that is any of my business.

#Oversharing

Sitting in a doctor's office waiting room with three people who are telling each other all the issues they have had over their lives.

I'm sitting quietly because none of that is any of my business.

#Oversharing

#uspol #oversharing
Old Man Shaking His Cane at the Sun; You Kids Get Off My Lawn!; etc.

This turned into a writing exercise and confession. Get out now if you’re put off by self-indulgence. You’ve been warned.

I try to limit the amount of politics I post here because it makes me so angry. I know we can never escape politics, or history, I just need a break sometimes.

It required enormous amounts of self-restraint when my students, who were otherwise bright and hard-working, used to complain, “I’m just not interested in history or politics…” in, say, a course in French about the French-speaking world. Ignoring the history of France and its “problematic” relations with its former colonies (Haiti, Algeria, Vietnam ….) isn’t just dishonest, it’s immoral. Or “of a dubious morality”, if you prefer.

“Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it.” (George Santayana) What about the people who WANT to not know about the past, who ignore it or, worse, deny it?

My background is privileged: white, male, middle-class American, originally straight, starting in the late 1950s. Catholic gradeschool (traumatic), public high school, public undergraduate and graduate education on scholarships at two state universities (Kansas and California). Nearly all of my professional career was spent teaching at a relatively prestigious, private, non-religious (thank God!) R1 university (R1 is a classification that means it’s devoted to research and, to a lesser extent, teaching) which I won’t name here. Some of you know it (and one of you worked with me as a wonderful student who’s become a great friend!)
Most (but not all) of my students came from very privileged backgrounds. They were, with very few exceptions, a delight to work with.

But I worry about how students have changed over the 30-some years I was teaching. American K-12 teachers (and secondary ed teachers as well) are increasingly overwhelmed by the amount of ChatGPT and AI reliance, the growing influnce of the toxic “manosphere” on young males, and the general decline of thinking in general among young people. Technology has been a net benefit, but at a huge human and especially environmental cost. AI is not going to save us, and fuck-ups and greed could well finish us off.

Trends are not encouraging. If I could change the year I was born, I wouldn’t. I’ve had wonderful and horrible experiences like everybody. I’m a product of my times, and I’ve witnessed quite a few “world historical” events. I’ve had a good run so far. I would never want to live forever. I feel sorry for my students, because they’re already having to deal with the fuck-ups of my late-boomer generation. There was some hope about being more conscious of our effects on the environment and less-privileged peoples, but that disappeared at the end of the 70s. We’re stuck in the decline and fall of the US, and we’re rushing to the fall. It’s only going to get much worse from here. It’s already getting much worse. Greed and materialism are destroying this country, and the evil of rich men will ultimately finish it off.

But there are still many decent people with integrity in the world, like YOU! And love isn’t dead. Like everybody, I don’t know how much longer I have to live. I hope I don’t outlive my husband by very long. Odds are that won’t happen. It’s useless to speculate. But the important thing is to not despair, love who we love, and help others however we can. My teaching career taught me about the vanity of looking at teaching as “helping others”, but there are more morally dubious ways to make a living. I still struggle with the morality of teaching at a university that is very much a business. It has close ties with the Department of War (let’s call it what it is), and it saddles the majority of its students with crushing loads of debt. But at least it’s not religious! I am complicit in all that, and I regret whatever role I have played in greasing the wheels of that “machine infernale.”

Oooof! This was supposed to be the preface to another topic, but as usual, I started meandering and made it about myself. The next post will be about what I really wanted to talk about. Warning: it’s depressing and infuriating and about politics, but I feel like I have to talk about it.

Thank you for reading all this and for putting up with my bullshit. My writing is a cheap form of therapy, which involves acknowledging how I feel and reflecting on how I got where I am “right here, right now”. Right here, right now is sitting on the couch with my adorable husband while a thunderstorm moves through. We’re distractedly “watching” but not paying attention to something on the Discovery Channel, recharging our phones in case the power goes out, which happens a lot.

Thanks for reading.

#uspol #oversharing
Old Man Shaking His Cane at the Sun; You Kids Get Off My Lawn!; etc.

This turned into a writing exercise and confession. Get out now if you’re put off by self-indulgence. You’ve been warned.

I try to limit the amount of politics I post here because it makes me so angry. I know we can never escape politics, or history, I just need a break sometimes.

It required enormous amounts of self-restraint when my students, who were otherwise bright and hard-working, used to complain, “I’m just not interested in history or politics…” in, say, a course in French about the French-speaking world. Ignoring the history of France and its “problematic” relations with its former colonies (Haiti, Algeria, Vietnam ….) isn’t just dishonest, it’s immoral. Or “of a dubious morality”, if you prefer.

“Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it.” (George Santayana) What about the people who WANT to not know about the past, who ignore it or, worse, deny it?

My background is privileged: white, male, middle-class American, originally straight, starting in the late 1950s. Catholic gradeschool (traumatic), public high school, public undergraduate and graduate education on scholarships at two state universities (Kansas and California). Nearly all of my professional career was spent teaching at a relatively prestigious, private, non-religious (thank God!) R1 university (R1 is a classification that means it’s devoted to research and, to a lesser extent, teaching) which I won’t name here. Some of you know it (and one of you worked with me as a wonderful student who’s become a great friend!)
Most (but not all) of my students came from very privileged backgrounds. They were, with very few exceptions, a delight to work with.

But I worry about how students have changed over the 30-some years I was teaching. American K-12 teachers (and secondary ed teachers as well) are increasingly overwhelmed by the amount of ChatGPT and AI reliance, the growing influnce of the toxic “manosphere” on young males, and the general decline of thinking in general among young people. Technology has been a net benefit, but at a huge human and especially environmental cost. AI is not going to save us, and fuck-ups and greed could well finish us off.

Trends are not encouraging. If I could change the year I was born, I wouldn’t. I’ve had wonderful and horrible experiences like everybody. I’m a product of my times, and I’ve witnessed quite a few “world historical” events. I’ve had a good run so far. I would never want to live forever. I feel sorry for my students, because they’re already having to deal with the fuck-ups of my late-boomer generation. There was some hope about being more conscious of our effects on the environment and less-privileged peoples, but that disappeared at the end of the 70s. We’re stuck in the decline and fall of the US, and we’re rushing to the fall. It’s only going to get much worse from here. It’s already getting much worse. Greed and materialism are destroying this country, and the evil of rich men will ultimately finish it off.

But there are still many decent people with integrity in the world, like YOU! And love isn’t dead. Like everybody, I don’t know how much longer I have to live. I hope I don’t outlive my husband by very long. Odds are that won’t happen. It’s useless to speculate. But the important thing is to not despair, love who we love, and help others however we can. My teaching career taught me about the vanity of looking at teaching as “helping others”, but there are more morally dubious ways to make a living. I still struggle with the morality of teaching at a university that is very much a business. It has close ties with the Department of War (let’s call it what it is), and it saddles the majority of its students with crushing loads of debt. But at least it’s not religious! I am complicit in all that, and I regret whatever role I have played in greasing the wheels of that “machine infernale.”

Oooof! This was supposed to be the preface to another topic, but as usual, I started meandering and made it about myself. The next post will be about what I really wanted to talk about. Warning: it’s depressing and infuriating and about politics, but I feel like I have to talk about it.

Thank you for reading all this and for putting up with my bullshit. My writing is a cheap form of therapy, which involves acknowledging how I feel and reflecting on how I got where I am “right here, right now”. Right here, right now is sitting on the couch with my adorable husband while a thunderstorm moves through. We’re distractedly “watching” but not paying attention to something on the Discovery Channel, recharging our phones in case the power goes out, which happens a lot.

Thanks for reading.

#oversharing
After years of being pre-diabetic, my new A1C level (over 7) means I’ve officially crossed into diabetes territory. Yay me! I know: eat better, get more exercise. Meanwhile, my doc offered me the choice of Ozempic (I hate needles, so no thanks) or metformin (pills, very common treatment). So I’ve been on metformin for a few weeks now.

I already knew this, but if you Google “side-effects of”, the second suggested topic is “side-effects of metformin”. These include nausea and diarrhea, and sure enough I’m nauseous and shitting my guts out. Yay. I’m drinking lots of water and forcing myself to eat at least a little bit. The heat and humidity aren’t helping, but at least we have A/C so I’m grateful for that. And I need to lose weight, so there’s a silver lining in there.

I know, poor me, wah wah wah, etc. Nausea is one of my least favorite things, but I’m very familiar with it. My anxiety always goes straight to my gut, and I am naturally a very anxious guy.

But I’m grateful for Medicare, while it lasts. Thinking about the future only fuels my anxiety. I’m looking for healthy distractions. God knows I’ve tried nearly all of the unhealthy ones.

#oversharing
After years of being pre-diabetic, my new A1C level (over 7) means I’ve officially crossed into diabetes territory. Yay me! I know: eat better, get more exercise. Meanwhile, my doc offered me the choice of Ozempic (I hate needles, so no thanks) or metformin (pills, very common treatment). So I’ve been on metformin for a few weeks now.

I already knew this, but if you Google “side-effects of”, the second suggested topic is “side-effects of metformin”. These include nausea and diarrhea, and sure enough I’m nauseous and shitting my guts out. Yay. I’m drinking lots of water and forcing myself to eat at least a little bit. The heat and humidity aren’t helping, but at least we have A/C so I’m grateful for that. And I need to lose weight, so there’s a silver lining in there.

I know, poor me, wah wah wah, etc. Nausea is one of my least favorite things, but I’m very familiar with it. My anxiety always goes straight to my gut, and I am naturally a very anxious guy.

But I’m grateful for Medicare, while it lasts. Thinking about the future only fuels my anxiety. I’m looking for healthy distractions. God knows I’ve tried nearly all of the unhealthy ones.

#oversharing
After years of being pre-diabetic, my new A1C level (over 7) means I’ve officially crossed into diabetes territory. Yay me! I know: eat better, get more exercise. Meanwhile, my doc offered me the choice of Ozempic (I hate needles, so no thanks) or metformin (pills, very common treatment). So I’ve been on metformin for a few weeks now.

I already knew this, but if you Google “side-effects of”, the second suggested topic is “side-effects of metformin”. These include nausea and diarrhea, and sure enough I’m nauseous and shitting my guts out. Yay. I’m drinking lots of water and forcing myself to eat at least a little bit. The heat and humidity aren’t helping, but at least we have A/C so I’m grateful for that. And I need to lose weight, so there’s a silver lining in there.

I know, poor me, wah wah wah, etc. Nausea is one of my least favorite things, but I’m very familiar with it. My anxiety always goes straight to my gut, and I am naturally a very anxious guy.

But I’m grateful for Medicare, while it lasts. Thinking about the future only fuels my anxiety. I’m looking for healthy distractions. God knows I’ve tried nearly all of the unhealthy ones.

#oversharing
After years of being pre-diabetic, my new A1C level (over 7) means I’ve officially crossed into diabetes territory. Yay me! I know: eat better, get more exercise. Meanwhile, my doc offered me the choice of Ozempic (I hate needles, so no thanks) or metformin (pills, very common treatment). So I’ve been on metformin for a few weeks now.

I already knew this, but if you Google “side-effects of”, the second suggested topic is “side-effects of metformin”. These include nausea and diarrhea, and sure enough I’m nauseous and shitting my guts out. Yay. I’m drinking lots of water and forcing myself to eat at least a little bit. The heat and humidity aren’t helping, but at least we have A/C so I’m grateful for that. And I need to lose weight, so there’s a silver lining in there.

I know, poor me, wah wah wah, etc. Nausea is one of my least favorite things, but I’m very familiar with it. My anxiety always goes straight to my gut, and I am naturally a very anxious guy.

But I’m grateful for Medicare, while it lasts. Thinking about the future only fuels my anxiety. I’m looking for healthy distractions. God knows I’ve tried nearly all of the unhealthy ones.

#oversharing
A rarity: a photo of all my brothers and me with our dad, most likely taken for Dad’s 80th birthday in June 2010. My brothers and their husbands and Ken and I are scattered across the country, so getting all of us together is very rare.

Photo by Ken, in Roseville, California (northeast of Sacramento).
As always, the backstories are bittersweet. It was the first time Ken met my three gay brothers, one brother’s eventual husband, and my father’s third and final wife, “who we did not fancy.” The step-mother tried to make everything about her, which was typical. However… as you might imagine, a gathering of four gay brothers and two of their boyfriends was guaranteed to become so noisy, boisterous, and hilarious that the step-mother was quite overwhelmed into mostly silence, which was appropriate.

Ken wanted to make an impression, so he wore a black leather cockring as a bracelet. My brothers and future brother-in-law burst into hysterical laughter as soon as they saw it.
My dad really liked Ken. In front of everyone, he said, “I just love Ken.” Then, turning to me: “I mean, man, after some of those guys you brought home…” Dad had no filter.

Less than ten years later, the step-mother and my dad were both dead.
As a coda to the otherwise happy gathering for Dad’s birthday, one of the restaurant employees stole my brother’s credit card information and made many costly fraudulent purchases with it. My brother wasn’t responsible for the fraudulent charges, fortunately.

Once my dad died, we stopped talking with the rest of the step-mother’s family. Once we sold Dad’s house, we never returned to Roseville or Sacramento.

Dad’s ashes are scattered off the Oregon coast. It was the last time we were all together.

#oversharing
A rarity: a photo of all my brothers and me with our dad, most likely taken for Dad’s 80th birthday in June 2010. My brothers and their husbands and Ken and I are scattered across the country, so getting all of us together is very rare.

Photo by Ken, in Roseville, California (northeast of Sacramento).
As always, the backstories are bittersweet. It was the first time Ken met my three gay brothers, one brother’s eventual husband, and my father’s third and final wife, “who we did not fancy.” The step-mother tried to make everything about her, which was typical. However… as you might imagine, a gathering of four gay brothers and two of their boyfriends was guaranteed to become so noisy, boisterous, and hilarious that the step-mother was quite overwhelmed into mostly silence, which was appropriate.

Ken wanted to make an impression, so he wore a black leather cockring as a bracelet. My brothers and future brother-in-law burst into hysterical laughter as soon as they saw it.
My dad really liked Ken. In front of everyone, he said, “I just love Ken.” Then, turning to me: “I mean, man, after some of those guys you brought home…” Dad had no filter.

Less than ten years later, the step-mother and my dad were both dead.
As a coda to the otherwise happy gathering for Dad’s birthday, one of the restaurant employees stole my brother’s credit card information and made many costly fraudulent purchases with it. My brother wasn’t responsible for the fraudulent charges, fortunately.

Once my dad died, we stopped talking with the rest of the step-mother’s family. Once we sold Dad’s house, we never returned to Roseville or Sacramento.

Dad’s ashes are scattered off the Oregon coast. It was the last time we were all together.

Some hours ago I freaked out about the SpaceX thing. Not an anxiety attack, but close enough. I had some hope that the IPO wouldn't succeed, that people would stop him.

I've accepted now that we've just validated and rewarded everything I despise. Now I'm just tired and sad.

Today is one of those very few days when my hope plunges to a new low and stays there. This is the new baseline

I'll be offline.

#oversharing #capitalism #depression #spaceX #elonMusk #broligarchy #techbros #fascism #ai

Some hours ago I freaked out about the SpaceX thing. Not an anxiety attack, but close enough. I had some hope that the IPO wouldn't succeed, that people would stop him.

I've accepted now that we've just validated and rewarded everything I despise. Now I'm just tired and sad.

Today is one of those very few days when my hope plunges to a new low and stays there. This is the new baseline

I'll be offline.

#oversharing #capitalism #depression #spaceX #elonMusk #broligarchy #techbros #fascism #ai

Some hours ago I freaked out about the SpaceX thing. Not an anxiety attack, but close enough. I had some hope that the IPO wouldn't succeed, that people would stop him.

I've accepted now that we've just validated and rewarded everything I despise. Now I'm just tired and sad.

Today is one of those very few days when my hope plunges to a new low and stays there. This is the new baseline

I'll be offline.

#oversharing #capitalism #depression #spaceX #elonMusk #broligarchy #techbros #fascism #ai

Some hours ago I freaked out about the SpaceX thing. Not an anxiety attack, but close enough. I had some hope that the IPO wouldn't succeed, that people would stop him.

I've accepted now that we've just validated and rewarded everything I despise. Now I'm just tired and sad.

Today is one of those very few days when my hope plunges to a new low and stays there. This is the new baseline

I'll be offline.

#oversharing #capitalism #depression #spaceX #elonMusk #broligarchy #techbros #fascism #ai

Some hours ago I freaked out about the SpaceX thing. Not an anxiety attack, but close enough. I had some hope that the IPO wouldn't succeed, that people would stop him.

I've accepted now that we've just validated and rewarded everything I despise. Now I'm just tired and sad.

Today is one of those very few days when my hope plunges to a new low and stays there. This is the new baseline

I'll be offline.

#oversharing #capitalism #depression #spaceX #elonMusk #broligarchy #techbros #fascism #ai

#oversharing
You know you’re getting old when words and concepts take on new meanings. I’m aware that slang changes constantly, but this isn’t about slang.
For a while now I’ve been seeing the term “backrooms” and only recently realized it doesn’t mean what it used to.
Backrooms used to refer to darkened rooms at the back of gay bars where guys would go for quick, anonymous, usually quiet sex. Not every gay bar had one, and there was only one. Used in a sentence: “I heard the bar has a backroom”, or “some dude I met in a backroom”. If you wanted sex right here, right now, with the privacy that a dark room provides, standing up (there was no furniture, they were just dark, empty rooms), this may be just the ticket for you.
I wasn’t a connoisseur of backrooms, but they weren’t completely unknown to me.
There was a lot of unsafe sex going on, which is one of the reasons why they don’t exist any more. This was at a time when the risks of unsafe sex were very well known, which was one of the reasons I never spent much time there. I lived through the AIDS crisis in the US in the 80s and early 90s, so I knew what to do to avoid seroconversion.
Anyway, imagine my surprise when I finally asked Google “what are backrooms?” (forget UrbanDictionary, it’s just a bunch of bullshit jokes) and learned that the term originated in a 4chan discussion (strike one). Getting to the modern backrooms involves “accidentally no-clipping out of reality” (my eyes start rolling back in my head), which is a term from video games where…. and I’m out.
I guess the truly shocking part of this post is the admission that I don’t play and never have played video games. I’m a dinosaur. Reading was always my escape since childhood. I don’t disparage video games or players, it’s just not my thing. It makes me sad that the concept of reading for pleasure seems to have gone the way of letter-writing. Over nearly 30 years of teaching French literature, I kept having to reduce the amount of reading I expected from my students because they just couldn’t do it.
It’s not that students are less intelligent than they used to be (although I think ChatGPT and similar LLMs are very harmful because they’re being used as a substitute for thinking), it’s that our understanding of “knowing” is changing. I once attended a lecture by Quentin Crisp (that’s
how old I am) during which he said, “The most important thing you can learn about is yourself. Everything else you can look up.” Knowing yourself is extremely important, but so is knowing the world around you. And you can’t just look up the experience of wandering into the backroom of a bar. Or trace the evolution of public gay sex between men from “cottaging” to backrooms to sex clubs to bath houses in large metropolitan areas. The distinctions between sex clubs and bath houses could fill someone’s dissertation, and probably have.
I suppose I’m a product of my times and choices so that I know more about the original backrooms than I do about video games. I do know that 4chan is a huge pile of shit and not worth my time, though. Even dinosaurs can learn things.
There’s a character from Amy Sedaris’ “At Home with Amy Sedaris” who liked to say after offering some unsolicited opinion or an unwanted observation, “I’ve said too much, I’ve said too much!”
Thanks for coming to my TedTalk.

#oversharing
You know you’re getting old when words and concepts take on new meanings. I’m aware that slang changes constantly, but this isn’t about slang.
For a while now I’ve been seeing the term “backrooms” and only recently realized it doesn’t mean what it used to.
Backrooms used to refer to darkened rooms at the back of gay bars where guys would go for quick, anonymous, usually quiet sex. Not every gay bar had one, and there was only one. Used in a sentence: “I heard the bar has a backroom”, or “some dude I met in a backroom”. If you wanted sex right here, right now, with the privacy that a dark room provides, standing up (there was no furniture, they were just dark, empty rooms), this may be just the ticket for you.
I wasn’t a connoisseur of backrooms, but they weren’t completely unknown to me.
There was a lot of unsafe sex going on, which is one of the reasons why they don’t exist any more. This was at a time when the risks of unsafe sex were very well known, which was one of the reasons I never spent much time there. I lived through the AIDS crisis in the US in the 80s and early 90s, so I knew what to do to avoid seroconversion.
Anyway, imagine my surprise when I finally asked Google “what are backrooms?” (forget UrbanDictionary, it’s just a bunch of bullshit jokes) and learned that the term originated in a 4chan discussion (strike one). Getting to the modern backrooms involves “accidentally no-clipping out of reality” (my eyes start rolling back in my head), which is a term from video games where…. and I’m out.
I guess the truly shocking part of this post is the admission that I don’t play and never have played video games. I’m a dinosaur. Reading was always my escape since childhood. I don’t disparage video games or players, it’s just not my thing. It makes me sad that the concept of reading for pleasure seems to have gone the way of letter-writing. Over nearly 30 years of teaching French literature, I kept having to reduce the amount of reading I expected from my students because they just couldn’t do it.
It’s not that students are less intelligent than they used to be (although I think ChatGPT and similar LLMs are very harmful because they’re being used as a substitute for thinking), it’s that our understanding of “knowing” is changing. I once attended a lecture by Quentin Crisp (that’s
how old I am) during which he said, “The most important thing you can learn about is yourself. Everything else you can look up.” Knowing yourself is extremely important, but so is knowing the world around you. And you can’t just look up the experience of wandering into the backroom of a bar. Or trace the evolution of public gay sex between men from “cottaging” to backrooms to sex clubs to bath houses in large metropolitan areas. The distinctions between sex clubs and bath houses could fill someone’s dissertation, and probably have.
I suppose I’m a product of my times and choices so that I know more about the original backrooms than I do about video games. I do know that 4chan is a huge pile of shit and not worth my time, though. Even dinosaurs can learn things.
There’s a character from Amy Sedaris’ “At Home with Amy Sedaris” who liked to say after offering some unsolicited opinion or an unwanted observation, “I’ve said too much, I’ve said too much!”
Thanks for coming to my TedTalk.

#oversharing
You know you’re getting old when words and concepts take on new meanings. I’m aware that slang changes constantly, but this isn’t about slang.
For a while now I’ve been seeing the term “backrooms” and only recently realized it doesn’t mean what it used to.
Backrooms used to refer to darkened rooms at the back of gay bars where guys would go for quick, anonymous, usually quiet sex. Not every gay bar had one, and there was only one. Used in a sentence: “I heard the bar has a backroom”, or “some dude I met in a backroom”. If you wanted sex right here, right now, with the privacy that a dark room provides, standing up (there was no furniture, they were just dark, empty rooms), this may be just the ticket for you.
I wasn’t a connoisseur of backrooms, but they weren’t completely unknown to me.
There was a lot of unsafe sex going on, which is one of the reasons why they don’t exist any more. This was at a time when the risks of unsafe sex were very well known, which was one of the reasons I never spent much time there. I lived through the AIDS crisis in the US in the 80s and early 90s, so I knew what to do to avoid seroconversion.
Anyway, imagine my surprise when I finally asked Google “what are backrooms?” (forget UrbanDictionary, it’s just a bunch of bullshit jokes) and learned that the term originated in a 4chan discussion (strike one). Getting to the modern backrooms involves “accidentally no-clipping out of reality” (my eyes start rolling back in my head), which is a term from video games where…. and I’m out.
I guess the truly shocking part of this post is the admission that I don’t play and never have played video games. I’m a dinosaur. Reading was always my escape since childhood. I don’t disparage video games or players, it’s just not my thing. It makes me sad that the concept of reading for pleasure seems to have gone the way of letter-writing. Over nearly 30 years of teaching French literature, I kept having to reduce the amount of reading I expected from my students because they just couldn’t do it.
It’s not that students are less intelligent than they used to be (although I think ChatGPT and similar LLMs are very harmful because they’re being used as a substitute for thinking), it’s that our understanding of “knowing” is changing. I once attended a lecture by Quentin Crisp (that’s
how old I am) during which he said, “The most important thing you can learn about is yourself. Everything else you can look up.” Knowing yourself is extremely important, but so is knowing the world around you. And you can’t just look up the experience of wandering into the backroom of a bar. Or trace the evolution of public gay sex between men from “cottaging” to backrooms to sex clubs to bath houses in large metropolitan areas. The distinctions between sex clubs and bath houses could fill someone’s dissertation, and probably have.
I suppose I’m a product of my times and choices so that I know more about the original backrooms than I do about video games. I do know that 4chan is a huge pile of shit and not worth my time, though. Even dinosaurs can learn things.
There’s a character from Amy Sedaris’ “At Home with Amy Sedaris” who liked to say after offering some unsolicited opinion or an unwanted observation, “I’ve said too much, I’ve said too much!”
Thanks for coming to my TedTalk.

#oversharing
You know you’re getting old when words and concepts take on new meanings. I’m aware that slang changes constantly, but this isn’t about slang.
For a while now I’ve been seeing the term “backrooms” and only recently realized it doesn’t mean what it used to.
Backrooms used to refer to darkened rooms at the back of gay bars where guys would go for quick, anonymous, usually quiet sex. Not every gay bar had one, and there was only one. Used in a sentence: “I heard the bar has a backroom”, or “some dude I met in a backroom”. If you wanted sex right here, right now, with the privacy that a dark room provides, standing up (there was no furniture, they were just dark, empty rooms), this may be just the ticket for you.
I wasn’t a connoisseur of backrooms, but they weren’t completely unknown to me.
There was a lot of unsafe sex going on, which is one of the reasons why they don’t exist any more. This was at a time when the risks of unsafe sex were very well known, which was one of the reasons I never spent much time there. I lived through the AIDS crisis in the US in the 80s and early 90s, so I knew what to do to avoid seroconversion.
Anyway, imagine my surprise when I finally asked Google “what are backrooms?” (forget UrbanDictionary, it’s just a bunch of bullshit jokes) and learned that the term originated in a 4chan discussion (strike one). Getting to the modern backrooms involves “accidentally no-clipping out of reality” (my eyes start rolling back in my head), which is a term from video games where…. and I’m out.
I guess the truly shocking part of this post is the admission that I don’t play and never have played video games. I’m a dinosaur. Reading was always my escape since childhood. I don’t disparage video games or players, it’s just not my thing. It makes me sad that the concept of reading for pleasure seems to have gone the way of letter-writing. Over nearly 30 years of teaching French literature, I kept having to reduce the amount of reading I expected from my students because they just couldn’t do it.
It’s not that students are less intelligent than they used to be (although I think ChatGPT and similar LLMs are very harmful because they’re being used as a substitute for thinking), it’s that our understanding of “knowing” is changing. I once attended a lecture by Quentin Crisp (that’s
how old I am) during which he said, “The most important thing you can learn about is yourself. Everything else you can look up.” Knowing yourself is extremely important, but so is knowing the world around you. And you can’t just look up the experience of wandering into the backroom of a bar. Or trace the evolution of public gay sex between men from “cottaging” to backrooms to sex clubs to bath houses in large metropolitan areas. The distinctions between sex clubs and bath houses could fill someone’s dissertation, and probably have.
I suppose I’m a product of my times and choices so that I know more about the original backrooms than I do about video games. I do know that 4chan is a huge pile of shit and not worth my time, though. Even dinosaurs can learn things.
There’s a character from Amy Sedaris’ “At Home with Amy Sedaris” who liked to say after offering some unsolicited opinion or an unwanted observation, “I’ve said too much, I’ve said too much!”
Thanks for coming to my TedTalk.

#oversharing
You know you’re getting old when words and concepts take on new meanings. I’m aware that slang changes constantly, but this isn’t about slang.
For a while now I’ve been seeing the term “backrooms” and only recently realized it doesn’t mean what it used to.
Backrooms used to refer to darkened rooms at the back of gay bars where guys would go for quick, anonymous, usually quiet sex. Not every gay bar had one, and there was only one. Used in a sentence: “I heard the bar has a backroom”, or “some dude I met in a backroom”. If you wanted sex right here, right now, with the privacy that a dark room provides, standing up (there was no furniture, they were just dark, empty rooms), this may be just the ticket for you.
I wasn’t a connoisseur of backrooms, but they weren’t completely unknown to me.
There was a lot of unsafe sex going on, which is one of the reasons why they don’t exist any more. This was at a time when the risks of unsafe sex were very well known, which was one of the reasons I never spent much time there. I lived through the AIDS crisis in the US in the 80s and early 90s, so I knew what to do to avoid seroconversion.
Anyway, imagine my surprise when I finally asked Google “what are backrooms?” (forget UrbanDictionary, it’s just a bunch of bullshit jokes) and learned that the term originated in a 4chan discussion (strike one). Getting to the modern backrooms involves “accidentally no-clipping out of reality” (my eyes start rolling back in my head), which is a term from video games where…. and I’m out.
I guess the truly shocking part of this post is the admission that I don’t play and never have played video games. I’m a dinosaur. Reading was always my escape since childhood. I don’t disparage video games or players, it’s just not my thing. It makes me sad that the concept of reading for pleasure seems to have gone the way of letter-writing. Over nearly 30 years of teaching French literature, I kept having to reduce the amount of reading I expected from my students because they just couldn’t do it.
It’s not that students are less intelligent than they used to be (although I think ChatGPT and similar LLMs are very harmful because they’re being used as a substitute for thinking), it’s that our understanding of “knowing” is changing. I once attended a lecture by Quentin Crisp (that’s
how old I am) during which he said, “The most important thing you can learn about is yourself. Everything else you can look up.” Knowing yourself is extremely important, but so is knowing the world around you. And you can’t just look up the experience of wandering into the backroom of a bar. Or trace the evolution of public gay sex between men from “cottaging” to backrooms to sex clubs to bath houses in large metropolitan areas. The distinctions between sex clubs and bath houses could fill someone’s dissertation, and probably have.
I suppose I’m a product of my times and choices so that I know more about the original backrooms than I do about video games. I do know that 4chan is a huge pile of shit and not worth my time, though. Even dinosaurs can learn things.
There’s a character from Amy Sedaris’ “At Home with Amy Sedaris” who liked to say after offering some unsolicited opinion or an unwanted observation, “I’ve said too much, I’ve said too much!”
Thanks for coming to my TedTalk.

Amii Stewart, “Knock on Wood” (1979). When this song came out I was a 20-year-old newly-minted gay kid in Lawrence, Kansas. If I had a dime for every time I’ve danced in public to this song, I would be rich. Bars, clubs, Pride weekends, parties, tea dances (especially Sunday tea dances)… so many good memories.
One of the last times I danced to it was at a Sunday tea dance at the wonderful Timberline in Seattle, the former Sons of Norway Lodge. Beautiful space made of huge logs with a very high ceiling. Very Pacific Northwest. I’m sure it’s been replaced long ago with a high-rise, along with Re-Bar, another favorite.
The graphics in the video seem very retro now, but in 1979 it was one of the earliest music videos.
My coming out was very bumpy at first, but eventually it became a lot of fun. Musically, I moved from rock to disco, starting with Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love”.
It was exciting because I was finally honest with myself about being gay. About half my straight friends dropped me, but I made a lot of new friends quickly. Lawrence, Kansas was actually quite supportive and had a large gay community. It probably still does, despite the fact that Kansas, like many places, has gotten much more conservative. But in the late 70s it was fun.
#oversharing

https://youtu.be/XKuJUxGntRI?si=gdg7QOHjGdVFodCB

Amii Stewart, “Knock on Wood” (1979). When this song came out I was a 20-year-old newly-minted gay kid in Lawrence, Kansas. If I had a dime for every time I’ve danced in public to this song, I would be rich. Bars, clubs, Pride weekends, parties, tea dances (especially Sunday tea dances)… so many good memories.
One of the last times I danced to it was at a Sunday tea dance at the wonderful Timberline in Seattle, the former Sons of Norway Lodge. Beautiful space made of huge logs with a very high ceiling. Very Pacific Northwest. I’m sure it’s been replaced long ago with a high-rise, along with Re-Bar, another favorite.
The graphics in the video seem very retro now, but in 1979 it was one of the earliest music videos.
My coming out was very bumpy at first, but eventually it became a lot of fun. Musically, I moved from rock to disco, starting with Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love”.
It was exciting because I was finally honest with myself about being gay. About half my straight friends dropped me, but I made a lot of new friends quickly. Lawrence, Kansas was actually quite supportive and had a large gay community. It probably still does, despite the fact that Kansas, like many places, has gotten much more conservative. But in the late 70s it was fun.
#oversharing

https://youtu.be/XKuJUxGntRI?si=gdg7QOHjGdVFodCB

Amii Stewart, “Knock on Wood” (1979). When this song came out I was a 20-year-old newly-minted gay kid in Lawrence, Kansas. If I had a dime for every time I’ve danced in public to this song, I would be rich. Bars, clubs, Pride weekends, parties, tea dances (especially Sunday tea dances)… so many good memories.
One of the last times I danced to it was at a Sunday tea dance at the wonderful Timberline in Seattle, the former Sons of Norway Lodge. Beautiful space made of huge logs with a very high ceiling. Very Pacific Northwest. I’m sure it’s been replaced long ago with a high-rise, along with Re-Bar, another favorite.
The graphics in the video seem very retro now, but in 1979 it was one of the earliest music videos.
My coming out was very bumpy at first, but eventually it became a lot of fun. Musically, I moved from rock to disco, starting with Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love”.
It was exciting because I was finally honest with myself about being gay. About half my straight friends dropped me, but I made a lot of new friends quickly. Lawrence, Kansas was actually quite supportive and had a large gay community. It probably still does, despite the fact that Kansas, like many places, has gotten much more conservative. But in the late 70s it was fun.
#oversharing

https://youtu.be/XKuJUxGntRI?si=gdg7QOHjGdVFodCB

Amii Stewart, “Knock on Wood” (1979). When this song came out I was a 20-year-old newly-minted gay kid in Lawrence, Kansas. If I had a dime for every time I’ve danced in public to this song, I would be rich. Bars, clubs, Pride weekends, parties, tea dances (especially Sunday tea dances)… so many good memories.
One of the last times I danced to it was at a Sunday tea dance at the wonderful Timberline in Seattle, the former Sons of Norway Lodge. Beautiful space made of huge logs with a very high ceiling. Very Pacific Northwest. I’m sure it’s been replaced long ago with a high-rise, along with Re-Bar, another favorite.
The graphics in the video seem very retro now, but in 1979 it was one of the earliest music videos.
My coming out was very bumpy at first, but eventually it became a lot of fun. Musically, I moved from rock to disco, starting with Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love”.
It was exciting because I was finally honest with myself about being gay. About half my straight friends dropped me, but I made a lot of new friends quickly. Lawrence, Kansas was actually quite supportive and had a large gay community. It probably still does, despite the fact that Kansas, like many places, has gotten much more conservative. But in the late 70s it was fun.
#oversharing

https://youtu.be/XKuJUxGntRI?si=gdg7QOHjGdVFodCB

Amii Stewart, “Knock on Wood” (1979). When this song came out I was a 20-year-old newly-minted gay kid in Lawrence, Kansas. If I had a dime for every time I’ve danced in public to this song, I would be rich. Bars, clubs, Pride weekends, parties, tea dances (especially Sunday tea dances)… so many good memories.
One of the last times I danced to it was at a Sunday tea dance at the wonderful Timberline in Seattle, the former Sons of Norway Lodge. Beautiful space made of huge logs with a very high ceiling. Very Pacific Northwest. I’m sure it’s been replaced long ago with a high-rise, along with Re-Bar, another favorite.
The graphics in the video seem very retro now, but in 1979 it was one of the earliest music videos.
My coming out was very bumpy at first, but eventually it became a lot of fun. Musically, I moved from rock to disco, starting with Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love”.
It was exciting because I was finally honest with myself about being gay. About half my straight friends dropped me, but I made a lot of new friends quickly. Lawrence, Kansas was actually quite supportive and had a large gay community. It probably still does, despite the fact that Kansas, like many places, has gotten much more conservative. But in the late 70s it was fun.
#oversharing

https://youtu.be/XKuJUxGntRI?si=gdg7QOHjGdVFodCB

#oversharing Random memory / true story:
“I’m Chrissie Hynde, and we’re the Pretenders!”
Thunderous applause.
“I’d like to thank our opening act, Bow Wow Wow…”
Thunderous boos.
“…and if you don’t like them, you can fuck right off!”
This was in a field house at the University of California Santa Barbara in the early 80s. The field house was a massive box made of corrugated metal with a wooden floor. I don’t remember much about the concert because I was probably high, and I’m old now and my memory is not good. Never has been. What I most remember about the show was how unbearably awful the acoustics were. Never saw the Pretenders or Bow Wow Wow a second time, unfortunately.
I saw a lot of great concerts when I was younger. Some day I’ll bore you with a partial list of all the great concerts I’ve seen. (But they include Eartha Kitt at a small jazz club, Everything but the Girl, and Nina Simone, all in Seattle. It’s a long list.)

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=zSl3Yo56HFM&si=rhLJ5gPLD1qzn0jG

#oversharing Random memory / true story:
“I’m Chrissie Hynde, and we’re the Pretenders!”
Thunderous applause.
“I’d like to thank our opening act, Bow Wow Wow…”
Thunderous boos.
“…and if you don’t like them, you can fuck right off!”
This was in a field house at the University of California Santa Barbara in the early 80s. The field house was a massive box made of corrugated metal with a wooden floor. I don’t remember much about the concert because I was probably high, and I’m old now and my memory is not good. Never has been. What I most remember about the show was how unbearably awful the acoustics were. Never saw the Pretenders or Bow Wow Wow a second time, unfortunately.
I saw a lot of great concerts when I was younger. Some day I’ll bore you with a partial list of all the great concerts I’ve seen. (But they include Eartha Kitt at a small jazz club, Everything but the Girl, and Nina Simone, all in Seattle. It’s a long list.)

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=zSl3Yo56HFM&si=rhLJ5gPLD1qzn0jG

#oversharing Random memory / true story:
“I’m Chrissie Hynde, and we’re the Pretenders!”
Thunderous applause.
“I’d like to thank our opening act, Bow Wow Wow…”
Thunderous boos.
“…and if you don’t like them, you can fuck right off!”
This was in a field house at the University of California Santa Barbara in the early 80s. The field house was a massive box made of corrugated metal with a wooden floor. I don’t remember much about the concert because I was probably high, and I’m old now and my memory is not good. Never has been. What I most remember about the show was how unbearably awful the acoustics were. Never saw the Pretenders or Bow Wow Wow a second time, unfortunately.
I saw a lot of great concerts when I was younger. Some day I’ll bore you with a partial list of all the great concerts I’ve seen. (But they include Eartha Kitt at a small jazz club, Everything but the Girl, and Nina Simone, all in Seattle. It’s a long list.)

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=zSl3Yo56HFM&si=rhLJ5gPLD1qzn0jG

#oversharing Random memory / true story:
“I’m Chrissie Hynde, and we’re the Pretenders!”
Thunderous applause.
“I’d like to thank our opening act, Bow Wow Wow…”
Thunderous boos.
“…and if you don’t like them, you can fuck right off!”
This was in a field house at the University of California Santa Barbara in the early 80s. The field house was a massive box made of corrugated metal with a wooden floor. I don’t remember much about the concert because I was probably high, and I’m old now and my memory is not good. Never has been. What I most remember about the show was how unbearably awful the acoustics were. Never saw the Pretenders or Bow Wow Wow a second time, unfortunately.
I saw a lot of great concerts when I was younger. Some day I’ll bore you with a partial list of all the great concerts I’ve seen. (But they include Eartha Kitt at a small jazz club, Everything but the Girl, and Nina Simone, all in Seattle. It’s a long list.)

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=zSl3Yo56HFM&si=rhLJ5gPLD1qzn0jG

#oversharing Random memory / true story:
“I’m Chrissie Hynde, and we’re the Pretenders!”
Thunderous applause.
“I’d like to thank our opening act, Bow Wow Wow…”
Thunderous boos.
“…and if you don’t like them, you can fuck right off!”
This was in a field house at the University of California Santa Barbara in the early 80s. The field house was a massive box made of corrugated metal with a wooden floor. I don’t remember much about the concert because I was probably high, and I’m old now and my memory is not good. Never has been. What I most remember about the show was how unbearably awful the acoustics were. Never saw the Pretenders or Bow Wow Wow a second time, unfortunately.
I saw a lot of great concerts when I was younger. Some day I’ll bore you with a partial list of all the great concerts I’ve seen. (But they include Eartha Kitt at a small jazz club, Everything but the Girl, and Nina Simone, all in Seattle. It’s a long list.)

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=zSl3Yo56HFM&si=rhLJ5gPLD1qzn0jG

I’m a rabid Dandy Warhols fan, especially of their earlier stuff. The Dandy Warhols Come Down and Thirteen Tales from Urban Bohemia are near-perfect albums. Here’s a cut from Come Down.
#oversharing
https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=kAA07LkKb-k&si=rkNIOyjVNddSzU5o

I’m a rabid Dandy Warhols fan, especially of their earlier stuff. The Dandy Warhols Come Down and Thirteen Tales from Urban Bohemia are near-perfect albums. Here’s a cut from Come Down.
#oversharing
https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=kAA07LkKb-k&si=rkNIOyjVNddSzU5o

#USPol #oversharing
I was radicalized twice, the first time by the Vietnam War and the second time by the AIDS crisis in the US.

The Vietnam War taught me that the US was lying and killing soldiers and civilians, and as a result it was not to be trusted but feared and resisted. The AIDS crisis in the US and the official silence but private mockery by Reagan (may he burn in Hell forever) and the Republicans taught me that the official US government is cruel, homophobic and a direct threat to my existence.
Trump has further radicalized me by revealing himself as a cruel, racist, shockingly corrupt, narcissistic madman. The revelation to me in my mature years how many of my fellow citizens actively and passively support cruelty, ignorance, anti-reason, racism, lawlessness, and boundless greed has been a sad filter through which I now see reality as it is, not as I hoped it would be or turn out.

#USPol #oversharing
I was radicalized twice, the first time by the Vietnam War and the second time by the AIDS crisis in the US.

The Vietnam War taught me that the US was lying and killing soldiers and civilians, and as a result it was not to be trusted but feared and resisted. The AIDS crisis in the US and the official silence but public mockery by Reagan (may he burn in Hell forever) and the Republicans taught me that the official US government is cruel, homophobic and a direct threat to my existence.
Trump has further radicalized me by revealing himself as a cruel, racist, shockingly corrupt, narcissistic madman. The revelation to me in my mature years how many of my fellow citizens actively and passively support cruelty, ignorance, anti-reason, racism, lawlessness, and boundless greed has been a sad filter through which I now see reality as it is, not as I hoped it would be or turn out.

#USPol #oversharing
I was radicalized twice, the first time by the Vietnam War and the second time by the AIDS crisis in the US.

The Vietnam War taught me that the US was lying and killing soldiers and civilians, and as a result it was not to be trusted but feared and resisted. The AIDS crisis in the US and the official silence but public mockery by Reagan (may he burn in Hell forever) and the Republicans taught me that the official US government is cruel, homophobic and a direct threat to my existence.
Trump has further radicalized me by revealing himself as a cruel, racist, shockingly corrupt, narcissistic madman. The revelation to me in my mature years how many of my fellow citizens actively and passively support cruelty, ignorance, anti-reason, racism, lawlessness, and boundless greed has been a sad filter through which I now see reality as it is, not as I hoped it would be or turn out.

#USPol #oversharing
I was radicalized twice, the first time by the Vietnam War and the second time by the AIDS crisis in the US.

The Vietnam War taught me that the US was lying and killing soldiers and civilians, and as a result it was not to be trusted but feared and resisted. The AIDS crisis in the US and the official silence but private mockery by Reagan (may he burn in Hell forever) and the Republicans taught me that the official US government is cruel, homophobic and a direct threat to my existence.
Trump has further radicalized me by revealing himself as a cruel, racist, shockingly corrupt, narcissistic madman. The revelation to me in my mature years how many of my fellow citizens actively and passively support cruelty, ignorance, anti-reason, racism, lawlessness, and boundless greed has been a sad filter through which I now see reality as it is, not as I hoped it would be or turn out.

#USPol #oversharing
I was radicalized twice, the first time by the Vietnam War and the second time by the AIDS crisis in the US.

The Vietnam War taught me that the US was lying and killing soldiers and civilians, and as a result it was not to be trusted but feared and resisted. The AIDS crisis in the US and the official silence but public mockery by Reagan (may he burn in Hell forever) and the Republicans taught me that the official US government is cruel, homophobic and a direct threat to my existence.
Trump has further radicalized me by revealing himself as a cruel, racist, shockingly corrupt, narcissistic madman. The revelation to me in my mature years how many of my fellow citizens actively and passively support cruelty, ignorance, anti-reason, racism, lawlessness, and boundless greed has been a sad filter through which I now see reality as it is, not as I hoped it would be or turn out.

Expectation to perform regret can be more troubling than the procedure, in my experience! #oversharing
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2026/may/26/abortion-trauma-myth-irish-women-patriarchy

Expectation to perform regret can be more troubling than the procedure, in my experience! #oversharing
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2026/may/26/abortion-trauma-myth-irish-women-patriarchy

Expectation to perform regret can be more troubling than the procedure, in my experience! #oversharing
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2026/may/26/abortion-trauma-myth-irish-women-patriarchy

Expectation to perform regret can be more troubling than the procedure, in my experience! #oversharing
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2026/may/26/abortion-trauma-myth-irish-women-patriarchy

Expectation to perform regret can be more troubling than the procedure, in my experience! #oversharing
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2026/may/26/abortion-trauma-myth-irish-women-patriarchy

Today in Handsome Dudes: Stéphane. We met when he was a student at the University of Bordeaux and I was teaching English there back in the mid-80s. He would have been 18 or 19. I was in my mid-20s. I don’t remember how we met, but he and his gay friends adopted me and my British boyfriend. And so we hung out.
At one point my boyfriend and I had to extract him from the clutches of the local gay mafia. I’m not making this up, it was real gay mafiosi. Stéphane was being heavily recruited to be a gay hustler, and we had to explain to him that there was a reason all these older gay men were showering him with gifts, attention, and free tickets to events. And that he needed to immediately quit frequenting the bar Le Colony. (It doesn’t exist any more.)
I lost touch with the British boyfriend but kept in touch with Stéphane as he evolved from a twink to a handsome, mature man. I learned a lot about French gay culture from him and his friends. We shared some hilarious times together. When I see him now, it’s hard to imagine how young he was when we met.
#oversharing

Today in Handsome Dudes: Stéphane. We met when he was a student at the University of Bordeaux and I was teaching English there back in the mid-80s. He would have been 18 or 19. I was in my mid-20s. I don’t remember how we met, but he and his gay friends adopted me and my British boyfriend. And so we hung out.
At one point my boyfriend and I had to extract him from the clutches of the local gay mafia. I’m not making this up, it was real gay mafiosi. Stéphane was being heavily recruited to be a gay hustler, and we had to explain to him that there was a reason all these older gay men were showering him with gifts, attention, and free tickets to events. And that he needed to immediately quit frequenting the bar Le Colony. (It doesn’t exist any more.)
I lost touch with the British boyfriend but kept in touch with Stéphane as he evolved from a twink to a handsome, mature man. I learned a lot about French gay culture from him and his friends. We shared some hilarious times together. When I see him now, it’s hard to imagine how young he was when we met.
#oversharing

Tenho a autoestima muito baixa e às vezes reajo a brincadeiras ou algum outro gesto bem-intencionado, com irritação e vergonha. Como isso me atrapalha! #fediterapia #oversharing

Tenho a autoestima muito baixa e às vezes reajo a brincadeiras ou algum outro gesto bem-intencionado, com irritação e vergonha. Como isso me atrapalha! #fediterapia #oversharing

Tenho a autoestima muito baixa e às vezes reajo a brincadeiras ou algum outro gesto bem-intencionado, com irritação e vergonha. Como isso me atrapalha! #fediterapia #oversharing

Tenho a autoestima muito baixa e às vezes reajo a brincadeiras ou algum outro gesto bem-intencionado, com irritação e vergonha. Como isso me atrapalha! #fediterapia #oversharing

Barney Frank made substantive contributions to LGB lives and deserves recognition and thanks for that. His stance on trans folx was “problematic”, to say the least.
Many years ago he cruised me and several other gay men in the showers and locker room of my gym in Seattle. That experience is the lens through which I’ll always view him. Not to kink shame those who enjoy public sex, it’s just not my scene. But the way he went about it was unattractive to me.
#oversharing

https://www.advocate.com/opinion/barney-frank-painful-cnn-interview

Barney Frank made substantive contributions to LGB lives and deserves recognition and thanks for that. His stance on trans folx was “problematic”, to say the least.
Many years ago he cruised me and several other gay men in the showers and locker room of my gym in Seattle. That experience is the lens through which I’ll always view him. Not to kink shame those who enjoy public sex, it’s just not my scene. But the way he went about it was unattractive to me.
#oversharing

https://www.advocate.com/opinion/barney-frank-painful-cnn-interview

Barney Frank made substantive contributions to LGB lives and deserves recognition and thanks for that. His stance on trans folx was “problematic”, to say the least.
Many years ago he cruised me and several other gay men in the showers and locker room of my gym in Seattle. That experience is the lens through which I’ll always view him. Not to kink shame those who enjoy public sex, it’s just not my scene. But the way he went about it was unattractive to me.
#oversharing

https://www.advocate.com/opinion/barney-frank-painful-cnn-interview

Barney Frank made substantive contributions to LGB lives and deserves recognition and thanks for that. His stance on trans folx was “problematic”, to say the least.
Many years ago he cruised me and several other gay men in the showers and locker room of my gym in Seattle. That experience is the lens through which I’ll always view him. Not to kink shame those who enjoy public sex, it’s just not my scene. But the way he went about it was unattractive to me.
#oversharing

https://www.advocate.com/opinion/barney-frank-painful-cnn-interview

Barney Frank made substantive contributions to LGB lives and deserves recognition and thanks for that. His stance on trans folx was “problematic”, to say the least.
Many years ago he cruised me and several other gay men in the showers and locker room of my gym in Seattle. That experience is the lens through which I’ll always view him. Not to kink shame those who enjoy public sex, it’s just not my scene. But the way he went about it was unattractive to me.
#oversharing

https://www.advocate.com/opinion/barney-frank-painful-cnn-interview

Time for more #oversharing. My dad’s 3rd wife (not my mom) had an obsession with decorative baskets made by a company whose headquarters was a building shaped like one of their baskets. Her other obsessions included Disney and George W. Bush. Our relationship was not warm. She insisted my brothers and I call her Mom. We refused, saying our Mom died not that long ago. It was about 6 months between my mom’s death and her marriage to my dad after a “whirlwind”courtship”.
It’s a long, sad story.

Time for more #oversharing. My dad’s 3rd wife (not my mom) had an obsession with decorative baskets made by a company whose headquarters was a building shaped like one of their baskets. Her other obsessions included Disney and George W. Bush. Our relationship was not warm. She insisted my brothers and I call her Mom. We refused, saying our Mom died not that long ago. It was about 6 months between my mom’s death and her marriage to my dad after a “whirlwind”courtship”.
It’s a long, sad story.

Time for more #oversharing. My dad’s 3rd wife (not my mom) had an obsession with decorative baskets made by a company whose headquarters was a building shaped like one of their baskets. Her other obsessions included Disney and George W. Bush. Our relationship was not warm. She insisted my brothers and I call her Mom. We refused, saying our Mom died not that long ago. It was about 6 months between my mom’s death and her marriage to my dad after a “whirlwind”courtship”.
It’s a long, sad story.

Time for more #oversharing. My dad’s 3rd wife (not my mom) had an obsession with decorative baskets made by a company whose headquarters was a building shaped like one of their baskets. Her other obsessions included Disney and George W. Bush. Our relationship was not warm. She insisted my brothers and I call her Mom. We refused, saying our Mom died not that long ago. It was about 6 months between my mom’s death and her marriage to my dad after a “whirlwind”courtship”.
It’s a long, sad story.

Time for more #oversharing. My dad’s 3rd wife (not my mom) had an obsession with decorative baskets made by a company whose headquarters was a building shaped like one of their baskets. Her other obsessions included Disney and George W. Bush. Our relationship was not warm. She insisted my brothers and I call her Mom. We refused, saying our Mom died not that long ago. It was about 6 months between my mom’s death and her marriage to my dad after a “whirlwind”courtship”.
It’s a long, sad story.